Completely Innocent: Robbie
by WhyAye
Summary: One-shot companion to Completely Innocent: Jean, this gives the same time period from Robbie's point of view. Barely-there Lewis/Hobson consistent with canon .


I honestly don't know how long I've been standing here. Me legs feel like matchsticks and if I move, they'll snap and I'll be down in the dirt. I'm not even certain how I got here. Did I make it down all those steps under me own power? And what happened to the girl? I guess uniform took her away. I remember hearing the sirens.

I realize now I'm shaking. Must be the cold. After all, it's nowhere near the first time a person has slipped through my grasp and fallen to death right before me eyes. Nothing I could have done. My arms were full, stopping the girl from going over as well. As it was, he nearly took the two of us down with him. And he made a good show of pitching me out that window, too, come to that.

Not that I felt frightened at the time. I was running on pure adrenaline. Had been since that point we discovered Charlotte and Vince were not quite whom we thought they were. It had been one long sprint from then.

Well, that adrenaline is gone now. I'm totally knackered. Nothing left. I feel completely numb, physically and emotionally.

Of course, I've been up for near forty-eight hours by now. And I can't remember eating anything since breakfast yesterday – or, the day before I suppose, it must be past midnight by now. Up all night at the hospital, stopping home to change and wash up and then back out on the street. Fueled on coffee. We've done runs like this in the past of course but I've never felt this drained. This time is worse for some reason. I feel like hell.

God, and I can't stop trembling. I see Innocent must have arrived at some point. She keeps looking at me. I should probably get her caught up on what's happened. _But I can't move_. Anyway, Hathaway is there, talking to her. He was a rock for me, this case, that's for certain. Steady and dependable. I know I snapped at him a time or two, not due to his fault. And I knew he'd take care of Laura while I . . .

_Laura!_ Where is she, anyway? Was she injured? Trying not to panic, I look around and . . . _there she is_, practically right next to me. She looks unhurt, thank God. I should say something reassuring to her but I have nothing to give. Could use a little reassurance meself. Damned rollercoaster ride, today was. Talking to that charlatan, she unnerves me. Then seeing that drunken waste of a man hugging Laura, kissing her cheek, Hathaway telling me she was involved with him, probably his lover . . .

I think that was the point I began to doubt her. And when Hathaway found those hospital records, suddenly it seemed possible that she had never been the woman I thought she was. If any of it was true, all of it could be true, even murder. But I wanted to know for my own reasons, nothing to do with the case. Could I really have misjudged her so badly all those years? Of course I heard my voice break when I ordered James to bring her in. I should have jacked it in right then, it was obvious I wasn't being objective, _couldn't_ be objective. Why had Innocent let me stay on the case?

Thank God James had the sense not to actually arrest her. I should have caught right then the piece that was out of place. If she had been Alec's lover, as Peter thought, why would _Peter_ be registered as the father of her twins? But my mind was clouded by my own hurt feelings at that point, and I wasn't thinking.

Then she was gone, her house standing open, violated. Right then I knew how wrong I'd been. Waiting for the trace on her mobile seemed to take hours. I can't think about if we'd been too late, too slow to put the pieces together. What if Mrs. Renfield hadn't been at home? Or if Vince and Charlotte had decided to exact a more swift vengeance?

I have to shut my eyes to keep things from spinning. I could use something to hold on to, but there's nothing. _How could I have doubted her?_ After so many years. Nothing between us ever but the truth. And I let a couple of entries in the hospital records and Hathaway's insinuation convince me that she was lying. With barely a second thought, I let all those years of trust go down the drain. It shouldn't surprise me if she wanted to be shut of me for that. Despite my chills, I feel the heat of shame on my face. Turns out _I'm_ the one who can't be trusted. How could I have been so stupid?

Not only that, but in the same night she's learned of the betrayal of two people she thought were her friends. "I should have been a better friend," she told me. No, Laura, _they_ should have been better friends.

_We_ should have been a better friend.

She's still standing there, heat blanket around her shoulders. She should be wrapped in something soft and comforting, not that bloody sheet of plastic. I'd give her me arm if I could move. If she'd even take it. She must hate me.

I have to try, at least.

"Laura? Are you injured?" It's not what I want to say, but it's all I can manage as a lead-in. She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. That this is my fault, I have no doubt.

To hell with the lead-in.

"Laura, I'm so sorry. I understand completely if you never forgive me. I've been a fool, and I don't deserve your friendship. I can't believe I doubted you for even a second. I'm sorry."

She just stares. I'm certain she's wondering where I'd gotten the balls to even talk to her after what I've done. I wish I could give her a hug but I expect she'd give me the back of her hand. And anyway, I still can't move. I see from the corner of my eye Innocent is watching us. So is Hathaway. Why can't they just go tidy up the scene and leave us alone?

Actually, I wish James would come over and talk to me. He has that steady voice, it would give me something solid to hang on to. I try to catch his eye but he's busy with Angus now. Can't be much to that post-mortem. Just find out how far gone the lad's mind was, if that can be told. Naw, James is probably staying away because he thinks Laura and I would like some privacy. As if my life were any of his damn business.

Aw, hell, Innocent is coming over. Nothing good can come of this. I try to breathe deeply and still the trembling as much as I can. God, I could use a stiff shot of something strong.

I can't believe this. She's ordered me—_ordered me_—to stay by Laura through the rest of the night. No backup, just me. "To make certain she feels safe." What, with a man who of all people should have maintained his trust in her _but failed_? Laura'll make me sleep in the car, I should think.

I'm not stupid, I know what Innocent's doing. She—and Hathaway, too—treat Laura and me like some kind of science project. They have this crazy idea that there's something between us, romantically. Even if there were, I'd never let either of them see it. My life is me own business, thank you very much. But the fact is, as far as I can tell, Laura's never seen me that way. Yeah, we flirt a little. But we never kid around about kissing or anything like that. She sees me as more of a big brother, I suppose. I've never really thought about whether I wouldn't mind something more. But even if I did, I'd _never_ tell her that, unless I was absolutely certain she wanted it, too. Why risk ruining a fantastic friendship? Of course now, with me stupidly deciding that she must have been lying, even though she's _never_ lied to me, most likely there isn't even friendship between us any more. God, if only Life came with an "undo" button. Bloody hell._ I'm so sorry, Laura_.

I look at her and she's looking at me, at least. I see now she's been crying. I give her an almost-smile. "Orders are orders," I tell her, and hold out my arm for her to take. She still isn't smiling but she takes my elbow and we head toward my car. Hard to believe I'm walking and not falling over. Out of the corner of my eye I see Hathaway give me a thumbs-up. I flip him two fingers, low, where Laura can't see. Speculate about your own damned life, ya nosy sod.

At her place, she showers while I make a pot of coffee. I tell her I'll be sitting up, not sleeping, so she needn't bother with a pillow or anything. She looks at me a little funny, then retreats to her bedroom. I pull on the sweatpants and a tee shirt we picked up from my place on the way here, and try to get comfortable in a chair in her sitting room, cradling my coffee mug.

I don't know how long I've been asleep when her screams wake me up. I bolt into her bedroom and she's sitting up in bed, no longer screaming but breathing heavily, a look of sheer terror on her face. She's had a nightmare of being buried alive, of course. I hold her until she stops shaking and has her breathing under control. She doesn't want tea. She wants me to stay with her, by her side in bed, the rest of the night. I'm glad she still sees me as an ally. I'd do anything she wanted at this point. I lie down next to her and wait for her breathing to deepen before I try to relax into sleep. I find myself thinking about lying next to her, sleeping next to her, waking up next to her. I'm surprised to find myself longing to kiss the nape of her neck. _Where did that come from?_ But I won't do it, of course. She's quiet the rest of the night. I don't sleep at all.


End file.
